On the Night of Sevens
by Invisible Ranger
Summary: Young Mulan must find a a way to bring honor to her family, keep a friend, and heal an old wound. And then there's the matter of practicing her embroidery...
1. Chapter 1

"On the Night of Sevens" 

(Dedicated to Tiffany, aka Artisticmaster, for the Bittersweet and Strange 2008 Valentine's Day exchange. It's my first attempt at writing a Mulan story! I did some research: there is no direct equivalent in China for Valentine's Day, but there is a similar festival called the "Night of Sevens" or _Qi Qiao Jie_. Hope you enjoy it!)

**PART I**

"You lose again, Dishi," said Mulan as she moved her War Elephant into checkmate position. "You should have seen that coming."

Her opponent, a boy with deep-set, kind eyes, scowled. "Can't we do best four out of seven?" he protested. His general was surrounded by her pieces.

"It was your idea to play elephant chess. There's not much else to do inside."

She was right, as usual. No one who could avoid the blistering summer heat was outdoors this time of day. Even in the shade of the Kun family courtyard, they were both sweating.

"Come on, then, let's take a break and go get some water," Mulan offered.

The town well was just about the only spot that hadn't dried up. As Mulan and Dishi made their way outside, a tiny cloud of dust rose at each footfall. A couple of chickens scratched in vain at the dry ground.

"How's your father coping with the drought?" she asked her friend.

"Not well." Dishi was normally reserved, and even more so when he was worried. His family had always been rice farmers, and the long dry spell had been devastating for them. Dishi, at twelve, was too young to do more than a few odd jobs. His father and his older brother, Kun Jian, had to take whatever work they could find.

"Chin up. The rain can't stay away forever, can it?"

"Try telling that to my father."

They walked side by side, not saying anything. The center of town was almost deserted. A couple of well-dressed girls about their age strolled toward them, each holding a parasol.

"Oh, look, it's Fa Mulan and her _boyfriend," _sneered Huang So, the taller of the two. Mei Xiao, her companion, snorted.

Mulan was well used to their nonsense. "I don't see either of you with a boyfriend," she shot back.

The girls tittered. "We're not supposed to have boyfriends, stupid. The matchmaker will find us proper husbands when the time is right," said Xiao.

"And we won't end up with a skinny little rat like him for a husband," added So.

Dishi hadn't said a word, but he finally spoke up. "I'm not a Rat, I was born in the year of the Boar." He blushed furiously.

"A skinny little boar, then. Well, that's much better, isn't it?" Xiao and So fell to the ground laughing at their own joke.

"Leave him alone," Mulan growled, suddenly furious.

"Mulan, don't. It's okay," whispered Dishi. He'd seen her like this before.

"Oooh, I'm so frightened. A boar and…a stork are gonna get me!" howled So.

"You're gonna pay for that one…"

"Is there a problem?" A calm, deep voice made all four children look up. It was Dishi's seventeen-year-old brother, Kun Jian. He was covered in sweat, his wet black hair plastered to his head. He pulled a heavy cartload of wood behind him.

So and Xiao looked up at him with their most innocent faces. He may have been just a farmer's son, but Jian's striking features and powerful build had most of the girls in town pining for him.

"None whatsoever, Jian," said Xiao, pulling out a fan and covering her face.

"We were just talking about what an…_adorable, _sweet brother you have," So added.

"Well, he may be, but he's supposed to be working right now," said Jian severely. "Dishi, back home. Father said to clean the chicken cages today, so no more slacking off."

"Can I at least say goodbye to Mulan?"

Jian nodded, then set off once more with his cartload. Xiao and So trailed after him like ducklings after their mother.

"Sorry," Dishi said after a moment.

"For what?" Mulan dipped the wooden ladle into the water bucket and offered it to him. "Those idiot girls are the ones who started it."

He sighed. "Sorry that I'm such a wimp, that I never stand up for myself."

She smiled and punched him playfully on the arm. "You're not a wimp. You're just not a stupid, boring ox like your brother. And you don't want to play Soldiers and Huns all the time like all the other boys. It's probably why you're my friend."

"Actually, my brother was born in a Horse year…"

They laughed; it was one of their private jokes. "Mulan, I really have to go, or I'll get in trouble. Do you want to do best four out of seven tomorrow?" he asked.

"You're on. I'll be sure and ask for rain for your family," said Mulan. "You should ask your ancestors for better luck next time we play."

"'Bye, then."

"See you, Dishi."

She drank a ladleful of water herself, then made her way home. Dishi wasn't the only one skiving off responsibility, after all.

"Mulan! Mulan, is that you?"

"Father! You're back!"

It really wasn't that much of a surprise. Fa Zhou's horse, Khan, was tethered in the courtyard, and had given it away. But having her father home on leave was always a cause for celebration. Mulan threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"I've really missed you," she said as he returned her embrace. "Do you have some stories for me?"

He laughed. "That I do. And I have something else. Hold out your hands."

She did, and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she held a finely carved wooden amulet in the shape of a magpie. "It's beautiful. You got this just for me?"

"My lieutenant Bao T'ien made it. He said it's very good luck."

_Maybe I should give it to Dishi. His family needs good luck more than we do_, thought Mulan.

"Ahem." Behind her father stood Fa Li, her mother. Normally serene, she now wore an exasperated expression. "Mulan, haven't you forgotten something important today?"

"Oh," Mulan looked down, chagrined. She knew she was in for a lecture. "I did forget to clean up after breakfast, and…"

"You know perfectly well what I mean," said Fa Li impatiently. "You're supposed to be practicing your embroidery so you can give a proper offering to our ancestors tomorrow."

Fa Zhou tried not to chuckle. His daughter could be a handful. "You should listen to your mother, Mulan. It is important that you at least try and learn," he said.

"If I were dead, I'd rather get a carved watermelon as an offering than some fancy colored threads," muttered Granny Fa as she shuffled in. "She's hopeless at embroidery. So was I at that age. And I never got much better."

"That's why she has to practice." Fa Li was adamant. "Just what were you doing all day, anyhow, young lady?"

"Um…well, first I fed the chickens, prepared the rice for lunch, swept the floors…"

"Anything else?" Her mother raised an eyebrow.

"And, I did play a few games of elephant chess…"

"By yourself?"

She knew better than to lie, especially with her father present. "No, Mama. It was Kun Dishi and I."

"Oh, Mulan. We've had this discussion before. You should't spend time with that boy. He's a bad influence," said her father.

"But he's my friend," Mulan protested. "None of the other kids my age even know how to play chess. He's actually nice to me. What's so bad about him, anyway?"

Fa Li made a strange sound, somewhere between a hoarse cry and a sob, and hurried from the room. Granny hurried after her as quickly as she could.

"Mulan, go to your room."

"But, Father…"

"Just go, and stop arguing!"

Frustrated, and shocked at his sudden temper, she sprinted past him towards her room.

Fa Zhou let out a long sigh. Looking up, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in a pane of glass. There were more grey hairs than ever on his head, and he was sure that not all of them came from the stress of being a soldier.

"Let's see…chrysanthemum, or peony?" Mulan looked down at her embroidery hoop in despair. "It just looks like a big yellow blob to me. Don't you think?"

Poppy Seed, the family calico, yawned in response. _It's not even good enough to impress the cat. How is it going to impress the ancestors?_

"Oh, well, I guess a little practice couldn't hurt." After all, she was grounded. There wasn't anything else to do. She plucked at the worst of the damage with her needle. "Maybe if I practiced on something I can actually see." The cat stretched herself out on the floor. "Do you mind sticking around for a while?"

A meow. Maybe that meant "yes."

"All right, then…I'll need some black thread, and maybe a little of that light brown. And some pink for your nose. Cats are just as much good luck as flowers, right?"

Another meow.

"A lot of help you are." Mulan began to pull out the golden threads that were her first attempt at a bunch of chrysanthemums.

"I see you've inherited your grandmother's talent for embroidery."

Her father stood in the doorway. How long he'd been there, she didn't know. His voice was much softer now.

"I'm sorry about earlier, Father. I didn't mean to upset you," said Mulan.

He sat next to her on her bed, and Poppy Seed rubbed up against his legs. "I know you and Kun Dishi have become friends. I have to ask you again to stop seeing him."

"But Father, why? He's just a rice farmer's son!"

"I don't want to bring further dishonor upon our family. You're too young to understand…" He trailed off, seeing his daughter's brows furrow. She looked just like her grandmother when she did that.

"Can't you at least tell me?" And she was just as persistent.

"I suppose I should tell you. You didn't upset me earlier; you upset your mother. Years ago, she was in love with a man called Kun Quon. I believe he is the uncle of your friend Dishi. But the matchmaker, and her father, had picked someone else for her to marry."

"You?"

Fa Zhou nodded. "I barely knew your mother then. I had seen her many times in town, of course, and admired her from afar. I'd never thought that the daughter of Ming Yan would be betrothed to me, a soldier's son. She was so headstrong, much like you. And Kun Quon was a vagabond with no prospects in sight. In the end, she could only marry one."

"But she married you, Father. Didn't she?" Mulan was leaning forward, eager to hear the rest of the story. Even the cat seemed to be listening intently.

"Of course. But Kun Quon would not give in so easily! On the Night of the Sevens, the festival of true love, he pleaded with her father to change his mind. He swore that he could take care of your mother, provide for her, and be an honorable husband. And it seemed that he was willing to agree."

"But what happened to him?" asked Mulan. "How did he dishonor our family if they never married?"

"Plans were made for a wedding, and the bride-to-be had never been happier. But there was never a ceremony. Kun Quon, in the end, was a coward. He jilted her, humiliated her in front of her family. No one knows what became of him," he said softly.

Mulan and her father shared a long look. "Is that why Mama always cries on the Night of the Sevens?" Her own eyes brimmed with tears.

"Yes. And it's probably best if you don't mention it to her."

"I promise I won't," said Mulan.

"I also have to ask you to stop seeing Kun Dishi. I know it is hard for you," her father said, looking at her knowingly, "but you must obey our wishes. Do you understand?"

Mulan nodded. But a plan was already taking shape in her mind. "Father, may I ask you just one thing?"

"Of course."

"Do I have to finish this embroidery? Can't I just offer the ancestors a watermelon instead?"

Fa Zhou laughed out loud. "If you finish your offering, I'll give you some money to buy a melon tomorrow. You can work hard and finish by tomorrow. It will make your mother proud of you," he added.

"And do I have to stay in my room?" asked Mulan.

"I'll bring you some rice and tea. That way you can finish without interruption." They embraced. "Sometimes you're a puzzle to me, Mulan, but I'm so honored that you're my daughter." Fa Zhou rose from the bed, and Poppy Seed scurried away. "Work hard, and make us proud. I'll see you in the morning."

Mulan was thinking hard, and barely noticed when he returned with a tray of supper. She pulled at the yellow threads with a new sense of purpose.

The next morning, Mulan woke before everyone else, even the cranky old rooster. She quickly dressed, tidied her room, and gulped down a little of the cold rice from last night. Today was the Festival of the Sevens, and with all she had to do, she needed an early start.

Her embroidered offering, a cat's face with some tiny flowers around it, wasn't perfect, but it was an improvement over the chrysanthemums. She set it aside for later that night. Her father, true to his word, had left her a few coins to buy a watermelon. Carving melons was something she actually did well.

_I've got to talk to Dishi, somehow, without Father knowing. _

Khan, her father's horse, was outside in his paddock. Mulan bridled and led him out. She'd need him where she was going today; it was too far to walk.

She scribbled a note to her parents and grandmother so they wouldn't worry, and left it on the family table. It was time to go. The sun was barely over the horizon, and mist still hung in the air. That was a good sign. Maybe it meant rain was on the way.

More than a few people were already up, trying to get work done before the heat became unbearable. Mulan prayed Dishi would be somewhere close. As a farmer's son, he usually got an early start too.

As luck would have it, he was just leaving his family's courtyard with several caged roosters. "Mulan! What are you doing up this early?" he said, seeing her with Khan. "Is that your father's horse? I didn't know he was back already."

"Hi, Dishi. I don't have much time to talk. I'll explain later," she said, glancing around nervously. "I really need to ask you something. You mentioned your uncle Quon to me once. Didn't you say he lives around here?"

Dishi's face became solemn. "He's a monk. Father says he lives at the Monastery of the Lotus Bloom, you know, outside town. But we don't really ever talk about him. Why?"

She could hardly believe her good luck. "Do you know where that is?" she asked.

"Well, it's a few leagues due east, in the hills. Why are you asking me all these questions about my uncle?" He looked at Mulan with suspicion.

"Because I'm going to the monastery. Like I said, I'll explain later," she said, nimbly swinging up on Khan's back.

"No, you're not," said Dishi stubbornly.

"Yes, I am, Dishi. I have to."

He dropped the chicken cages. "You can't. Girls aren't allowed in the monastery."

Mulan's heart sank. She hadn't thought about that at all. _What am I going to do now?_

Dishi, in his peasant tunic and pants, stood there staring at her. "All right, Miss Smart Girl, so much for your silly plan. You want to help me with these chickens?"

But another idea was quickly forming in her head. "I can. But I have to ask you a favor first. Do you have a spare set of clothes?"

The Monastery of the Lotus Bloom was by far the largest building Mulan had ever seen. In its long morning shadow, she felt more nervous at every step Khan took. It was a crazy idea to begin with, and she doubted it would work. _There's no way those monks are going to let me in._

She'd traded her clothes for an old tunic and pants of Dishi's. He'd helped her tie her long black hair into a topknot. Her pretty, unblemished skin might have given her away, but she'd rubbed dirt all over to complete her disguise. A wide-brimmed farmer's hat sat on her head. Now she looked like an ordinary peasant's son, and not a respectable soldier's daughter. Kind of.

"Khan, stay here, all right?" Mulan whispered to the big horse. He snorted and dropped his head into a water trough.

_Am I supposed to knock? _An imposing pair of double doors stood before her. But there was an ornamental ring in the shape of a phoenix, and she tapped it twice. A man in the rough orange robes of a monk appeared a moment later.

"Uh…" Mulan hesitated, not quite knowing what to say. "I'd like to see Brother, er, Quon, please." She looked down immediately.

"May I ask your name?" the monk asked her.

She hadn't thought about that either. "Kun…Wang. I'm a relative." _Hopefully Kun Quon had a lot of relatives. _"I need to speak to him alone."

He hesitated for just a moment, and Mulan thought he knew. But he merely bowed. "I'll announce you. Wait here, please."

The next few minutes felt like an hour. She tried to rehearse what she wanted to say. It all seemed so stupid now. Then the monk returned.

"Come with me."

She followed him through a seemingly endless maze of corridors. There were so many questions she wanted to ask about this forbidden place, but she kept silent. Monks were all around, at prayer, at work, and in one case, pulling at the bridle of a stubborn donkey in an open courtyard. None of them really gave her a second look. Maybe it would work, after all.

They came to a door, and the monk knocked. "Brother Quon?"

"Yes?" came his voice.

"Young Kun Wang is here to see you."

"Send him in." Mulan's host bowed, and left her alone. Her heart was galloping in her chest. She pushed the door open.

Kun Quon's room was larger than she expected a monk's to be, but it was simply furnished: a pallet, a small table, and a few personal items. A small statue of the Buddha smiled at her.

"To what do I owe the honor of your visit?" Brother Quon asked. He was her father's age, bald like all the other monks, but still handsome. He had probably been striking when he was younger. It wasn't until he stood right in front of her that Mulan realized his eyes were open, but streaked with milky white. He was blind.


	2. Chapter 2

PART II 

Mulan almost laughed out loud. _With all the trouble she'd gone through for a disguise… _She bowed out of habit to him. "Brother Quon, I'm Kun Wang. I would like to speak with you," she said, keeping her voice low.

"Wang?" Behind his sightless eyes, Mulan could tell he was thinking hard. "I can't recall anyone by that name. But there's so many things I can't recall these days."

"I know your nephew, Kun Dishi," she said, hoping to prompt his memory.

He smiled. "Still the runt of our family, is he?"

"Yeah, but he plays a good game of elephant chess," said Mulan.

"So did I, many years ago. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please."

Quon made his way effortlessly around his room, fetching a kettle and two simple cups. His dexterity made it hard to believe he was blind. He left the kettle to boil over a charcoal brazier, then sat opposite his visitor. "I don't often get company. So what is it that really brings you here? Did my brother put you up to this?" he asked.

Mulan cleared her throat, then spoke. "No, I came here on my own. I, er, wanted to know about your life before you came to this monastery," she managed. It had sounded all right when she'd practiced in her head; now it just seemed silly.

He stared at her with those milky eyes. "My life is here now. All that happened before is meaningless," he said with some indignation.

"You mean, you can't remember anything before?" pressed Mulan.

"I mean that I choose not to," corrected Kun Quon. "This has been my home for almost fourteen summers now. I live here, I meditate, I have a simple life. With my sight gone, it is probably for the better," he said with a sigh.

She'd probably have to try a different tactic. _Think, Mulan, how would Father handle this? You're in a boy's clothes, so act like one. _"My father told me you were strong once, and handsome. So how did you end up here? Didn't you ever fall in love?" she asked him, feeling braver than before.

His hand trembled slightly, and drops of tea fell to the floor. She'd clearly struck a nerve. A long moment passed before he spoke again. "That was a long time ago," he said finally, his already soft voice hardly more than a whisper now.

"Does that mean you did? Can you tell me?" She leaned forward, her own cup of tea forgotten.

"You're too young to understand…" If Quon could have seen her face, he might have remarked on the stubborn set of her jaw, as Fa Zhou had the previous night.

"But I've only ever told the full story to my confessor, when I first arrived here. And he died some time ago. I told myself if ever I were to make myself tell it again, it would be to family. And here you are," he said, gesturing to her.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?"

A half-smile appeared on his face. "I'll not bore you with unnecessary details. You're a Kun; you appreciate getting right to the point. You also know that we've never been much more than rice farmers."

Mulan nodded, not knowing what to say. Dishi had never told her much about his family. So she listened.

"My elder brother…that would be Kun Dishi's father…he was always solid, strong, dependable. He was an Ox if ever there were one. I was the Rat; flighty, creative, daring." She remembered Huang So taunting Dishi, calling him a skinny little rat, and felt more sympathy for him than ever. He probably took after his uncle Quon more than she realized.

"More tea?" asked Quon, seeming relieved to break from his story.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Mulan answered. She'd barely touched hers. "Will you continue, Brother Quon?"

"Yes." He took a sip from his teacup. "Anyhow, my brother married the girl the matchmaker had chosen for him without complaint. I wanted no part of that boring life. I'd always had a gift for writing poetry and aphorisms. I wanted to see what lay beyond this valley, become a learned man and share my wisdom, like the great Lao Tzu."

Mulan was fascinated. She'd never read much aside from her prescribed lessons to prepare her for marriage. "I always wished I could read more. But there's never enough time, with all the chores and everything," she sighed.

Quon smiled again. "What an irony it is that I now have more time on my hands to study than I ever thought possible, but not the means to read or write."

"Couldn't you dictate, have a scribe take down your words?"

He looked sightlessly past her. "I would, if only the words were there. They no longer come to me," he said.

"So how did you end up as a monk?"

"You are very curious, Kun Wang. But have patience; I'm getting to it. As I said before, I never had much interest in marriage, only the written word. Our granny used to be the wise woman in this village, and she made many predictions with the _I Ching _sticks. When I was about your age, she predicted the name of my brother's future wife to the letter. And then, she gave me a very interesting forecast," said Quon, cradling the empty teacup in his hands.

"What was it?" Mulan wished her father told stories as good as this one.

"She said that I would fall in love, and that the girl would love me just as much. But she also warned that if I were to marry her, I'd condemn her to a life of unhappiness. Only if I were to forsake her could I offer her a life of joy and meaning."

Mulan felt a knot growing in her stomach. Could this be why he'd jilted her mother? "Did you?"

"No." The single word was tinged with regret and sadness. "I never married. I was young and reckless then, but even I knew not to tempt fate. It was a case of love at first sight. But I loved her so much that I could not let her suffer. She married the man her father and the matchmaker had chosen, and as far as I could tell, she was happy."

Just for a moment, Mulan shuddered. _I might have never been born if he'd chosen otherwise. _"And what about you?"

"What about me?" His smile was back, as serene as the Buddha on his tabletop. "My life has been uneventful since then, I'm afraid."

"You didn't tell me how you came to the monastery," she said, still curious.

For a man who was blind, Mulan had the strange feeling Kun Quon was looking through her. "I came here so I could atone," he said simply.

That wasn't what she'd expected. "Atone for what?"

"For breaking the heart of a woman I loved. I never told her about the prediction, and I never saw her again. It's hard for me to explain how sorry I felt," he said, suddenly looking much older. "After I abandoned her, I spent a year or so wandering aimlessly, doing everything I'd always told myself I would do, visiting places I'd only imagined. But without love in my life, none of it had any meaning. Shortly after I left this village, I began to suffer from terrible headaches. When I sought a physician, he told me I was slowly losing my sight." His milky eyes fixed on her, as if looking for sympathy.

"So what did you do?" Mulan asked him.

"The only thing I hadn't done. I went to my granny's home, the wise woman. If anyone could help me, it was she. By then she was very old indeed, and almost blind herself. I hadn't seen her since she first made the prediction. She shook her head when I asked if there were any help for myself. But then she told me something very interesting," he said, lowering his voice as if to disclose a great secret.

"Did she curse you with blindness? You know, for going against her advice?" blurted Mulan.

He rubbed at his temples. "I think that was an unfortunate coincidence. Granny said I'd only heard the first part of her prediction. When I was younger and I first heard it, I'd run off, only hearing what I wanted to hear! Can you guess what I had missed?"

"No," said Mulan breathlessly. _Kun Quon did have a gift for words. _

Quon paused for a moment, as if to search his memory. "She said that I must never marry the girl I loved, but there was a way for me to keep her love. If, every year at the Night of the Sevens, I proved my love to be true, I'd be able to have her company for that one night. Just like the Weaving Maid and the Cowherd," he said wistfully, referring to the legend behind the festival. "Always separated, but never far apart."

Mulan didn't know what to say. She was probably the only person, aside from Quon's former confessor, who had ever heard the story. "Do you still love her?" she managed.

A tear fell from one of his blind eyes. "How could I ever have stopped?"

"What was she like? Your fiancee?" It was strange to think that someone besides her father had once loved her mother.

"Where do I begin? She was kind, and witty, and had a wonderful laugh. Let us not forget that she was also beautiful. I imagine you're very much like her."

Mulan nearly fell to the floor in surprise. She chuckled nervously, trying to keep her voice boyish. "Huh? I mean, I actually take more after my father, because…"

"That voice could only belong to the daughter of Ming Li," insisted Quon. "I am blind, it's true, but my ears do not deceive me. She must be very happy indeed with a daughter like you."

Slightly embarrassed, Mulan tugged at the brim of her borrowed hat. "How did you know, anyway?"

"How many boys would be so eager to hear a love story? And how many would pay such close attention? Besides, you have such a lovely voice."

Mulan blushed. She had no idea how long she'd spent at the Monastery of the Lotus Bloom, but somehow she didn't want to go home right away. "Brother Quon, you won't tell anyone, will you?" she asked. What kind of punishments did monks have, anyway? It couldn't be worse than the punishment her father had in store if he ever found out.

He laughed, and for a moment Mulan saw the lively, spirited man her mother had once loved. "No, I won't. The question is, will you? Now, before you go, I do need to ask you a favor. What is your name? Your real name?"

"Fa Mulan," she said. "You're sure you won't tell anyone?"

"We monks are good at keeping secrets. Now, where did I put that?" he said, mostly to himself, feeling his way back to his cot. From underneath, Quon pulled out a yellowed scroll, still sealed with wax. "Tonight, as you and I both know, is the Night of Sevens. We do not celebrate the festival here at the monastery, but I know a young girl like yourself will. Take this with you." He held it out to her.

She stared at it, wondering what it could be. "Brother Quon, what is this?"

"Wait until you get home," he said cryptically. He pulled a satin cord, and Mulan heard a bell ringing through the wall. "It's been an honor to meet you, Fa Mulan. I'm sure you are your mother's daughter, and I can give no higher compliment."

"May I ask you one more thing?"

"Of course."

"Why did you agree to tell me your story?"

He stared at his teacup for a moment as if it were a precious gem. "Because I had to tell someone who would understand," he told her. "Now, hurry home. Your parents will be worried about you, I'm sure."

Mulan wanted to embrace Kun Quon, but merely bowed. "Thank you, Brother Quon. I'll say hello to Dishi for you, all right?"

"Please do. He was always my favorite."

"Oh, and one more thing. Do you know anywhere I can get a good watermelon?"

The monk who had escorted her in appeared at the door. Kun Quon smiled. "Brother Shin, please see Kun Wang out, and let him take one of our melons home to his family."

"Thanks, Kun Quon. I won't forget you." And it was true.

Quon listened to the footsteps recede down the long hall. He was alone once more. But now he knew Fa Li was happy.

Mulan trotted down the dusty road astride Khan, the melon clutched tightly in her right arm. She'd spent much longer than she expected at the monastery. Quon had been right; her parents did worry about her, especially when she traveled outside the village.

She was almost home when she realized what was out of place. Clouds! Sometime during the day they had rolled in from the west, and the sun's face was hidden. Neither she nor Khan was even sweating. Maybe tonight, the Night of Sevens, would see the end of the long drought.

As if to tease her, a few drops of rain pattered onto the wide-brimmed hat she still wore. It reminded her that she still needed to change back into her own clothes. Half an hour later, it was as if "Kun Wang" had never been at all. Mulan stared at her reflection. She'd been extra careful to wipe the dirt from her face and arms. _If Father ever found out what she'd done…_She left her disguise outside the Kun family's home. Hopefully Dishi would find the clothes on his way inside.

"Do I look enough like a girl again?" she asked Khan, who was still nibbling at a few sparse blades of grass. He made one of his odd grunting sounds. "Oh, sure, you're a lot of help." Mulan grabbed his reins and led him into her own family's courtyard. No one was stirring; they were probably getting some rest before the festivities.

She found a short, sharp knife in the kitchen, perfect for carving her melon. Whatever the monks did to grow melons, they did right. This one was perfectly ripe and juicy. She carried it into her room, where Poppy Seed was curled into a ball and sleeping contentedly on the bed.

"Now, let's see…" murmured Mulan, careful not to wake the cat. "How do I make this look just right?" She went to work with the little knife, skillfully making cuts across the melon. Poppy Seed snoozed on.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Fa Li as she entered Mulan's room. She wore a pale pink dress Mulan hadn't seen her wear in a long time. "When did you get back?" Night had fallen; she set down a lantern on the floor. The cat, startled, yawned and jumped from her perch.

Mulan looked up from her work. When she was preoccupied, she hardly noticed the passage of time. Her favorite dress was covered in bits of melon rind and pulp. "I'm sorry, Mama. You and Father were asleep when I came back," she tried to explain.

"And when was that, exactly?" Her mother fixated her with a critical eye.

"Late afternoon," replied Mulan. She'd already thought out a story. "I had to go all the way to Tanshung to find the right melon. Just look at it!"

It was carved with the name of the Fa family, along with delicate birds and flowers. "Don't you think it's better than that silly embroidery?"

Fa Li nodded, clearly impressed. "It's beautiful. I'm surprised you found one so large, with the drought as bad as it's been. Now, for heaven's sake, get yourself cleaned up! You don't want to embarrass the ancestors looking like that, do you?"

Mulan grinned to herself. Mother was always fussing at her to stay clean, without much success. "What should I wear?"

"Your orange dress would be nice. And try to do something with your hair," she said. "I'll be waiting for you in the garden. Father and Granny Fa are already there, so do try and hurry."

With one hand, Mulan tugged a comb through her wild, tangled hair. With the other, she drew out the scroll Kun Quon had given her, safely hidden in her sash. The temptation to break the wax seal was strong, but she resisted. That was for her mother, not for her.

She was glad she didn't have to wear the elaborate costume and makeup of the brides-to-be in the village, at least not yet. Supposedly she was supposed to ask her ancestors to bring her a good husband…but that could wait. For now she could get away with a simple but pretty orange dress trimmed with blue, a matching sash, and slippers. It was really no different than her normal attire, just a little fancier. Satisfied that she was at least no longer covered in watermelon, Mulan picked up her carving and the embroidered cloth, slipped Kun Quon's scroll into her sash once more, and slipped outside.

In the garden, hundreds of tiny lanterns had been placed along the footbridge, the pond, the path leading up the hill to the Ancestors' Shrine, and even at the base of the family guardian, the stone dragon. She'd seen the festival decorations before, but Mulan always found herself breathless at the sight. Fireflies danced in and out of the scene, making things even more beautiful. Her parents and grandmother were silhouettes next to the pond.

"There you are. You did clean up, after all," said Fa Li, a lantern in her hand. "Come and eat. You must be hungry by now."

Fa Zhou had brought a table outside for the feast. It was covered in fresh flowers and garlands, many of which would be taken to the shrine later on. But Mulan's eyes went wide at the sight of all the food…marinated beef, a roasted fish, egg dumplings…so much better than the boring boiled rice and vegetables they usually ate.

"Go ahead and help yourself. I'm getting hungry just looking at all this," said Granny Fa with her toothless smile. She helped herself to a piece of the fish.

Mulan didn't need a second invitation. She filled her bowl with servings of all her favorites, though she had to be careful and eat daintily, the way her mother was always showing her. It was important that her family be in a good mood tonight, but especially Mama. Her chopsticks dipped in and out, and she savored every mouthful.

Before she knew it she was full. She poked at a last bit of rice, not even able to finish it.

Her father cleared his throat. "I must say, I'm not accustomed to such delicious food," he said, looking sideways at Mulan.

She took the hint. "Oh, I mean, yes, it was delicious. What about dessert?"

"Mulan…"

"Thank you for a wonderful mean, I meant to say, Mama." She bowed her head.

"First we make our offerings, then dessert," Fa Zhou said, indicating a bowl of ripe peaches on the table. "Let us go before our ancestors and ask their many blessings on this, the Night of Sevens." The family made their way up the incline, Mulan in the lead, with her father supporting Granny Fa, and Fa Li behind.

A loud _crack! _made them all look round in surprise. "What was that?" Mulan whispered.

"Lightning. Hurry, let's get inside. I think we'll be getting a downpour fairly soon," said Fa Zhou, holding up one hand for any raindrops. A moment later they had made it into the shrine, and another _crack! _split the air. Sheets of rain began to pour from the sky, and the dry earth immediately soaked up the moisture.

"What about the lanterns, and the food?" It was Fa Li who spoke, her voice barely audible over the rain.

"We'll just have to get them after the storm," sighed Fa Zhou. "I didn't expect that we'd be getting any rain at all."

"Maybe now my sunflowers will grow a bit," chuckled Granny Fa, ever the optimist.

Only Mulan stayed silent. This was perhaps the only place she ever felt a real sense of reverence. The monastery had been like this, too. Slabs of marble, perfectly polished and inscribed with the names of the Fa ancestors, reflected back several Mulans. All of them wore the same thoughtful expression.

_If not for a twist of fate, I might have been Kun Mulan. Or maybe there never would have been a Mulan._

"Mulan, do you have something you need to say?" her mother asked. "You're never so quiet."

It felt strange to hear her say that, after all her lectures on the qualities of a good bride. "Actually, yes," Mulan said, getting a spark of inspiration. She pulled the scroll from her sash. "To honor our family." The wax seal broke easily, and she unfurled Kun Quon's words. They had faded over the years, and were written in the form of a poem. Mulan hesitated, then read aloud:

After the long night comes the dawn 

_Every tree flowers again in the spring_

_From the ashes of fire arises new life_

_And the beds of creeks do not stay dry._

_We lose our treasures, then find them again_

_Things we forget are remembered once more_

_And that which wounded us the most_

_In time, heals our deepest injuries._

She finished, and the four of them were all silent. "Mulan, did you write that?" asked Fa Zhou finally.

"No, Father."

"Then who did?" His gaze was stern.

"Someone who never stopped caring," answered Mulan, looking right at her mother. "Isn't that what this poem is about? Things we think are bad, might not turn out to be so bad in the end."

For a moment she thought Fa Li would burst into tears, the way she had last night. Her mother did start to weep, but now her tears were from happiness. She pulled Mulan into a tighter embrace than she ever thought possible. "Oh, Mulan," she whispered, "whatever would I do without you?"

"Probably fret endlessly over foolhardy sons," muttered Granny Fa. Even she wiped a tear from her eye.

Fa Zhou in turn embraced his daughter. "You give me more than a few grey hairs, my daughter. You also give me more joy and honor as a father than I ever thought possible."

"Do you think I should ask for a brother, then?"

Her parents shared a long, knowing look. "I think you should ask for whatever is in your heart," said Fa Li softly.

Outside, the rain had all but stopped. Even the stars had begun to emerge from behind the clouds. "Take all the time you need. We'll be waiting for you," her father said, "and I'll leave the lantern for you." With that, they began to make their way down the hill to the now-moist garden.

Left alone, Mulan stared at her multiple reflections cast by the granite plaques. It wasn't that she didn't want to ask for any blessings this year at the Night of Sevens. She had already been blessed.

She laid her offerings at the foot of the memorials, and began to pray silently.

_Honorable ancestors, thank you for my parents, for Granny Fa, for Khan and Poppy Seed. Thank you for my friend Dishi. But most of all, thank you for letting me find out the truth. I hope it brings honor back to the Fa family. _

Mulan wrinkled her nose, knowing she was supposed to be praying for true love, and an honorable husband, and all those things her mother always carried on about.

_Oh, and if I absolutely have to get married, could you make sure it's someone who's interesting, and funny, and whose breath doesn't smell? Someone like Dishi? Thanks._

She bowed one final time, and took the lantern from its holder, a bronze dragon hanging from the underside of the ceiling. The stars were back out in force, and she could see the bright ice-blue chips that were, in legend, the Weaving Maid and the Cowherd.

_Always separated, but never far apart. _But tonight, they seemed just a little closer.

Mulan hurried down the hill as fast as she could to join her family.


End file.
